


inhale, exhale

by doodivie



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Sad, There's cursing, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 15:05:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6709783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doodivie/pseuds/doodivie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm fine, Iwa-chan."<br/>"Why do you always lie to me like this?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	inhale, exhale

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I wrote this at 2 in the morning while in an angsty mood, so enjoy my tired Iwaoi crap. If you liked it, please leave kudos and/or comments! If you want to check out my other social media, they are linked in the bio on my profile. :)  
> (Also, yes I know the title is stupid, but I suck at titles.)

Sometimes it was too much. Serve after serve after serve, all of them out.  
_God damn it, it's the same thing over and over again!_  
Oikawa kicked the nearest volleyball, letting it smash into the gym wall with a loud thud. Tugging at his hair, he looks at the clock. 1:10 in the morning. _I can't stop now. It's not good enough. I'm not good enough. I have to keep going._

Taking a deep breath, Oikawa picks up the last volleyball out of the cart and serves it with his best effort, but yet again watches it smack into the court just past the out line. This time, his rage is too much to stay inside.  
"Jesus Christ! Can I not do any fucking thing right at this point?" He screams to the empty gym, his anger echoing as hot tears begin to stream down his face. Letting his knees hit the ground, he pounds his fists on the court. Suddenly, the collar of his shirt is too tight. The air is too tight. He can't breathe. He begins to gasp for air, as if the gym only holds a few gulps of oxygen. He's shaking violently, and although he doesn't realize it, he's still screaming at the top of his lungs.

Then all at once, it stops. He can breathe. He's no longer screaming. His lungs are sucking in oxygen, and pumping out carbon dioxide. There's a hand rubbing small circles on his back, hushing him. Turning his head, Oikawa sees his best friend kneeled beside him, his face red from the harsh winter outside.  
"Iwa-chan."  
"Are you okay? Are you breathing?" He had never heard such concern in Iwaizumi' voice before.  
"How did you--"  
"I'm your best friend, I can tell when something's getting to you. Even though you never say it," his hand retreats from Oikawa's back and finds its way in his own hair. "Besides, you weren't answering any of my texts or calls tonight and the only time you don't have you phone on you is when you're practicing. Speaking of which, what the hell are you doing here? It's after 1 in the morning and we have school tomorrow."  
"I needed more practice," Oikawa whispers, refusing to look him in the eye.  
"You've already practiced for over 6 hours today. Besides, you've probably given your parents a heart attack, not being home by this hour."  
"They're out of town."  
"Just because they aren't here to keep an eye on you doesn't mean you can do dumb shit like this. Am I going to have to be your second mother?"  
"No," Oikawa smiles for a moment. "I'm fine, Iwa-chan. I lost track of time and was just about to go home."  
"Why do you always lie to me like this?"  
Oikawa's breath hitches, and he finally returns the boy's gaze.  
"Oikawa, I know you weren't about to go home. And I sure as hell know you're not okay. Ever since the end of junior high, you've been different, and that was one thing, but since the start of our third year, you've gotten worse. You've become too absorbed in volleyball, and your grades and relationships with everyone else are suffering, big time. Please, just tell me what's going on."  
"I needed more practice," Oikawa repeats. "I haven't been doing good enough."  
"Haven't been doing good enough? We've won all our games so far this season, and that's due to you. You've led us, this team, through so many victories the past 3 years. You're outstanding, Oikawa. I don't understand how you could think any less of yourself. Come on, get changed. You need food and sleep." Iwaizumi stands, putting his hand out for the setter.  
"But I--"  
"No 'buts'. Let's go home," he says, pushing his hand out farther. Oikawa stays still for a moment before finally taking the hand. After cleaning up the equipment and putting on coats and scarves, the two delve out into the cold night.

They walk in silence for a few minutes, then Oikawa stops in his tracks. Locking his eyes on the ground, he whispers a small "Thank you, Iwa-chan."  
Iwaizumi has stopped too, but stays facing the other way. "There's no reason to thank me. I didn't do anything."  
"You do everything for me."  
"I do not. Seriously, let's get going."  
"No, I'm serious. You do all this stuff for me, and I'm always such a burden--"  
"God, do you ever shut up?" Iwaizumi finally turns around and walks toward the boy, grasping his face in his cold hands. "You are in no way a burden."  
"But I always--"  
"I guess you really can't shut up," Iwaizumi laughs, putting his lips to Oikawa's. The setter tenses, but quickly eases into the kiss. He presses back harder, and their mouths open, tongues tangling with each other. This is a new kind of warmth for the both of them, a kind that comes from their stomachs. Oikawa's hands have found themselves around Iwaizumi's waist, pulling him as close as possible. His hair is being tugged at, but now it's in a way that's actually comforting. Finally breaking apart, their foreheads bump together as they catch their breath.  
"You should shut me up more often," Oikawa finally whispers, his usual smirk tugging at his wet lips.  
"Point taken," Iwaizumi returns the grin, and the two continue their walk home, now hand in hand. 


End file.
